The Peaceful Devil

When our friend invites us to visit the lake house at Devils Lake, my bedroom is usually the same: a little room tucked off to the side of the main hallway with a night-sky-theme and a little triangular window looking out over the lake. 

We have visited Devils Lake many times over the years. Sometimes we camp, and sometimes we are invited to the cottage, but regardless, the memories are all pleasant. I remember the first time I paddled across the lake with another of my mothers coworkers, and landed on the beach at Sand Point Park. I remember the first time I set eyes on the shoreline of the lake at dusk, the first time I set foot in it's shallow, murky waters. When we got a powerboat of our own, we always brought it. I even made a friend there, though it was years ago, and we have never had a chance to catch up. I’ll admit, I was a bit disappointed when I found out she wasn’t there, though I hadn’t been expecting her. 

The canoe, Red Devil rests on
a dock on the Lake's Western
 Shore, prior to an outing

But it isn't just the lake house, its the lake itself. Devil's Lake doesn't seem to me to be aptly named. When you think "devil," usually "peaceful" isn't the first word that comes to mind, but Devil's Lake, located outside of Lincoln City on the Oregon Coast, is certainly peaceful. This is  especially true after nightfall, when all of the boats have gone home for the night and the lake is quiet. If you stand on a dock, and look out across the lake, the darkness is peppered with light: red flashes from radio towers, the lights from windows or docks across the lake of various colors or even multi-colored, and the clouds lit up by the lights of Lincoln City. Then close your eyes and listen: boats bobbing in the miniature waves driven by the light breeze. Behind the houses, cars slip by on gravel roads, their tires merely a whisper in the night. This last visit, I stood out on the dock barefoot for a good fifteen minutes (I hadn't bothered to put on shoes), my feet resting in puddles of rainwater until they were so cold they ached.

Some places along the lake, like
this spot on the East shore remain
largely unchanged, and hint at the
lake's appearance before development

Even this late in the summer, many days dawn gray and cool. The weather isn't cold (it remained in the 60s all day) but still not ideal for a lot of activities: we wasted...er...spent many hours watching movies. But one can only watch movies for so long. Thankfully, there are other ways to pass the time. If you have access to a boat, you must bring it. Despite our access to a larger boat, I selected a red canoe and took it out alone, crossing the lake to the Sand Point Park to snack on edible Salal berries, then perused the shoreline, looking at the cottages, and the spots of wilderness remaining, a clue at what the lake must have looked when construction began on the first cottages. These cottages now permeate the lakeshore, but that only adds to the ambience. One has a heliport, another uses blue ceramic tiles for roofing. Another’s back yard is just a wooden staircase leading straight into the lake, and still another lakefront home lights up the facades with spotlights, so that from a distance it looks like a house of cards. 

I took the canoe out a second time, but once across the lake, I couldn’t convince the canoe to turn into the 20 MPH wind toward home. I was eventually rescued by a generous fisherman passing by (my father.) After this I named the canoe “Red Devil,” and decided that next time, I would take the green one. 

Even in summer months, a thick mist
can swallow the lake. Despite the
appearance, the temperatures remain
comfortable with long sleeves.

While some parts of the lakeshore appear as they might have in centuries past, the lake itself has changed a great deal. In the 1980s, non-native aquatic plants were introduced, and quickly grew so thick that boat propellers would get bound up. The lake is unusually shallow and rich in nutrients, making it ideal for aquatic life. To keep the weds at bay, the lake is stocked with Chinese Grass Carp. The large fish can still be seen wallowing around in shallow water, their fins breaking the surface near shore. Despite the "devil" in the Native American legend from which the lake draws its name, these fish are the closest things to sea monsters you will see on this lake. Birdwatching will reward the patient soul as well: herons, egrets, and kingfishers call its shores home. It's not unusual at all to see an egret resting on top of a motorboat, or even a tree. 

     Devils lake, isn’t by any means a hidden gem and isn’t even a well kept secret, with its hotel, cottages and state park. Yet it remains out of sight for those simply passing through town. The Lake, however, is easily accessed by two roads that share its name, and isn’t far from the beach. Whether you rent a cottage for a few nights, stay in the state park, take a boat out, or even just stop by at one of the lakeshore city parks on your way through town, it’s certainly worth stopping by, and taking it all in for yourself.

Sources:

[Link] New Details: Devils Lake Issues by Jeremy C. Ruak, The News Guard of Lincoln City Pub. Apr. 10, 2018

44˚59'02"N, 123˚59'15"W

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Questions in the Forest: Lowami-Hart Woods

Lowami-Hart Woods

Lowami-Hart Woods Natural Area is a relatively recent addition to the Tualatin Hills Park and Recreation District's empire of natural areas. Ran as a daycamp location by Campfire Columbia until 1994. The 28-acre property was bought by THPRD soon thereafter and lay dormant for almost a decade until THPRD added trails and bridges to make it navigable to the public (without twisting ankles on downed branches), and re-opened in 2004.

The Main trail through Lowami-
Hart Woods pictured in April,
2015. This location is near the
exit, where visitors must leave
the forest, before re-entereing
nearby in Brookhaven Woods
Natural Area.

I visited the park years ago, with a spirit of adventure, but the park struck me on my first visit as rather tame. The park can only be explored from trails: off-trail travel is not allowed. It reminds me of an amusement park ride: 

"welcome aboard the Lowami-Hart Express. Please keep your head, hands, arms, and legs on the trail at all times."

I understand why they do this: in most of their woodlands, THPRD prioritizes the natural ecosystem over human recreation. In order to do so, they have designated trails, and forbid visitors from wandering off of these. Maintaining a healthy ecosystem in a suburban city of 80,000 people is very difficult if those 80,000 people are running every which way through the forest. Then there are the interpretive signs: the park is riddled with them, interrupting your private stroll through the forest to ask you what you smell, or what you hear, or asking other questions. They have always felt restrictive. Simply experiencing the park isn't enough: they need you to experience it their way.

One of the interpretive signs in
the forest. The signs are gaudy
and bright, but they do make you
think about where you are.

The entrance to the park is right off of SW Hart, on a paved path: tame and mild. No sooner had I entered the park then a sign asked how many animal homes I found. Such technical language I thought, as I made a left turn. I had only gone about fifty feet before another sign crossed my path, this one asking me to close my eyes and listen. I ignored it as well, and abandoned that path entirely when I encountered a moped, mysteriously parked on the trail.

After descending the trail, I found the flagpole, the gathering spot where girls had once met for their campfire day camps. It's silent now, but THPRD retained the flagpole as a nod to the woodland's heritage, and their own day-camps continue to meet here. Another sign was located nearby shaped, and colored like a salmon:

What did you see today that surprised you? Too early to tell...and stop asking me questions!

Up to this point, I had done my best to ignore these signs, and try to focus instead on the forest itself. My scorn however, soon turned to weariness, and when I encountered yet another sign, I gave up fighting.

How many plants and trees can you see?

One of the bridges in Brookhaven
Woods Natural Area. The Trail
passes briefly through a wetland
before re-entering the forest, just
beyond this bridge

I shrugged, and looked around me. Well 5...8... at least 10. I'd never actually given it a lot of thought. I had seen them--could identify many--but I had never actually stopped to count. After passing another sign asking me to stop look and listen, (which I did) the path left the park for a block or so.

Brookhaven Woods Natural Area

The forest is legally split into two separate parks, but there are no paths connecting them. This necessitates a brief walk through the neighborhood. The second section is largely woods and wetlands: brown ponds sparkling in the august sunlight, swaying sedges and grass, dead snags, and the smell of fir planks and creosote as the wooden bridges baked in the sun.

I turned around when i couldn’t ignore how tired and dehydrated I was any longer. As I returned, I stopped at each sign, and silently pondered what the sign was trying to point out. What did I hear or see if I actually stopped and listened. 

As I returned to the car, I passed the salmon sign again. What did you see today that surprised you? Perhaps its a copout, but what I saw that surprised me was the value in these signs. They are bright and ugly and don't fit in at all, but I can understand why the district put them there. Many people are just out in the woods to get exercise, or socialize...and that’s fine. But the forest has more to offer than that, and these signs coax visitors into paying more attention to their surroundings. Those that do make discoveries that they otherwise might have overlooked. -KP

The salmon-shaped sign near the flagpole.
The question is open-ended: visit the park
yourself, and then post a comment with
your answer :)

Sources: Oregonlive, THPRD

 45˚28'04"N, 122˚49'54"W


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Fort Stevens' Secret Lake

Secret Places

Looking south, away from the boat
launch. The weather over the lake is cloudy,
with high humidity. This adds to the
cool, almost magical atmosphere.
---

     Some houses have secret rooms, or secluded gardens. They are a necessity: a place for people to hide away from the stressful rat-race that is modern life. In a way, these are the things I seek out on trips, or when I am away from home. Special places: hidden gardens out in the countryside that God hides away especially for people who stumble upon them. 

Coffenbury lake, at Fort Stevens State park, is sometimes referred to simply as "the lake." For most, this would make sense, as it is, at a glance, the Park's only lake. But when you stop and think about it, this makes no sense: the drive into the park passes through a network of marshes and small lily pad-filled lakes. So shouldn't Fort Stevens State Park, have at least two? Maybe three? According to this State Park map, there are at least five. And two of these are easily explored by boat.... 

Yes. Fort Stevens has two navigable Lakes

"Two?" I hear you ask "But where is the other one?"

 The scenery around the Northern end of the
lake.

This second lake is a mere stone's throw east of Coffenbury Lake, down a small secluded, pothole-ridden path. It's not difficult to find per se, many simply never discover it. Visitors are too busy exploring the larger Coffenbury Lake and the other attractions of the park: the old batteries, the museum, and the shipwreck among others. My father marveled that he had been visiting the park for nineteen years and never knew the lake existed. Yet some people do: the mud boat ramp is covered in footprints and I have even seen a couple of kids trying their luck at fishing, while a google earth image shows kayaks cruising the lake. But unlike Coffinbury Lake, it's poorly advertised... and you need a boat to truly experience this hidden treasure. With Coffenbury Lake, you can hike around it and see it from every angle. This lake has no trails, and the wetlands surrounding it are too thick to make your own. 

The path leading to the lake is what first caught my eye. It's a strange, ancient concrete path continuing from the end of the picnic area, where it disappears from sight around the bend. "Psst." it seems to say, "Over here! Follow me, see where I go!" But the derelict path is so subtle, that only a curious explorer would bother investigating further.

A different experience entirely...

Further along in the lake, the pond lilies form
thick mats, rising above the lake surface as
the water level fell later in summer. Canoeing
through these mats is...interesting.

Despite its age, the path is wide enough for a vehicle, and the ramp is good for canoes or kayaks. The boats slip silently through the water, leaving the forget-me-not-covered shores behind, and heading out into the fog. Leaving the boat launch is like stepping through a doorway: it isn't until you are well into the lake, that its size becomes apparent. Towering groves of fir and spruce line the shores, walling it off and hiding it further. Strange whistling bird calls carry out from the trees, eagles soar overhead looking for fish, and Cedar waxwings, with their bandit-mask markings dart about on the shrubs. The upper branches of Douglas Firs twist into shapes that can be mistaken for osprey or eagles. A thin fog lays low over the lake, like a curtain, hiding the next hundred feet, giving you something to eagerly paddle towards.

The lake's surface is mirror smooth, filled with feather-like water plants. Pond lilies rise from the lakebed, and form thick patches, that form a sort of second lakeshore. They grew to a previous lake level, and as the lake level fell, they kept their height, now about the surface of the water. Flowers are few this time of year. yet life goes on. Even as these leaves weather and die, new ones can be seen beneath the waters surface.

The old derelict road leading to
Secret Lake. The path is riddled
with potholes and is in desperate
need of repair. Despite this, it is
easily traversed by a careful driver.

A hidden gem

In one day, I saw this lake twice: after going once without a camera it just had to be documented. It was so tranquil. Even on our second trip, the fog still had not lifted, and the cool wind still blew north along the lake. Even after the boat was safely away, I returned to gaze through that doorway, across the lake. I love the tranquility, the lack of people fishing and swimming, and taking up space. But like the Church Creek Trail, it seems strange that more people don't talk about it. Coffenbury is good and fine, but there is something refreshing about how quiet and still, and cool it is. It's like AC on a hot day. It's needed in the hustle and bustle that is Oregon's largest state park, walled in by trees, and with a boat-launch doorway: Fort Stevens' hidden lake. -KP

 46˚09' 59"N, 123˚57'16"W

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